Tattered
by Tirefruck
Summary: Bill manages to get away after Nancy's death, but not without stealing Fagin's greatest treasure, Dodger. He takes the Dodge on to be his apprentice, but a man gets lonely after he murders his lover. Bill/Dodger in later chapters. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

This story is based around the through that what is Bullseye had run off instead if alerting the townspeople about Nancy's murder. It is based mainly off the 1968 film. I do not own Oliver or anything related to it. This is for enjoyment purposes only.

**_Oliver Twist_** belongs to Charles Dickens

**_Oliver!_** belongs to Lionel Bart

Tattered

The pounding of a calloused knuckle on a worn out old door rang through the night. The red night. The bloody night. The night that changed everything in one young boy's life.

"Fagin! Fagin let me in!" a rough voice shouted through the door.

He growled deeply in his throat and glared down at the little orphan by his side. His large hand was gripped tightly around the boy's upper arm. The youth's eyes were filled with horror and fear of the crime he had just witnessed.

"Now boy… you best not be tellin' Fagin what'ya saw t'night…. Or else it might end very badly for ya," he sneered, acid spilling out of his voice.

The moment he heard the lock undone he flung open the door, tossing the blonde orphan inside. The boy scrambled up the stairs to the open den where Fagin's boys were sitting; some playing cards, some smoking, some looking half asleep. It was late after all. They stared over at the boy, unsure of what to do. The Artful Dodger was the only one to make a move. He got up from his mug of gin and went over to his friend, Oliver. Saying nothing he quietly lifted the boy to his feet and patted him off. Putting an arm around the orphan's shoulder, Dodger brought him in and sat him down at one of the tables. He could only imagine what the poor kid had been through.

"Bill. What did you do Bill? Where's Nancy, Bill?" Fagin questioned once Oliver had gone out of earshot. His eyes were filled with worry and sadness. Bill stayed silent. "Bill! Where is she-is that…blood?" Fagin stared down at the lapel of Bill's coat. A splotch stained the grey material. Looking up, Fagin stared right into Bill's murderous eyes. "Oh Bill…"

The old man frowned and closed his eyes for a moment. Turning around he started up the steps. A tug on his sleeve pulled him back though. Bill Sykes glared and that was enough to get the message across to Fagin. He sighed and turned back around to go up the stairs. He put on the cheeriest face he could muster as he reached the top. "Oi! Boys! Ta bed! All'uh ya! Its been a long day. Ya need rest my dears," he ordered. There were a few moans and groans from the youths, but the majority of them stayed quiet, knowing something was wrong. Dodger helped Oliver get to his little cot before going to his own. The blonde boy fell asleep almost immediately upon getting his head down. The ordeal had been so traumatic to him that all he wanted to do was sleep and forget the whole thing.

Once all the boys were tucked in and sound asleep, Bill finally spoke, "Fagin. I want money." He held his dirty hand out in expectation. The old man griped loudly, "Bill, I can't! I gotta take care of my boys. They'll starve ta death if I give up any more money." Never before had the old geezer been so sincere. "And… if I don't 'ave my boys, I don't 'ave no money," And there was the selfishness back again.

Bill had been nonchalantly pacing around the little hell-hole that Fagin called a home. He looked over some of the boys and stopped at Oliver, sneering slightly before turning to face Fagin. "'Ow about we make a… barter of sorts?" he proposed. The old man looked cautiously at the murderer before asking, "What do ya mean by that Bill?" A disgusting smirk spread across his lips, "I want the boy." Fagin snarled and said in a harsh whisper, "No! You can't 'ave Oliver! That's enough'uh that Bill!" With one swift motion Bill had stepped closer to Fagin and pushed the bloody end of his cane underneath the man's chin. "I'm not talking about Oliver. He's useless, couldn't even open up a bloody lock without causin a scene… I want that one," he reached his free arm out and pointed to the bed of a sleeping little gent.

Fagin was taken aback. He stumbled backwards from pure shock. "Dodger? Ya, ya want Dodger! No no no! He's my best pickpocket!" Bill smiled wickedly, "Exactly. Give 'im ta me and consider your debt completely repaid. I'm sure he's worth about that much in annual profits. And then I'd be outta your hair foreva. You'd neva 'ave ta see me again." Beady eyes darted around, not sure of what to reply. His debt repaid? It would be too good to be true! He'd never even have to deal with Bill Sykes again? Bill Sykes would leave him alone? It was all a man during these times could hope for. His will was fading fast. Dodger would understand right? He would want the best for his dear old Fagin…. Wouldn't he? His greedy hands reached out and grabbed Bill's lapels, "Ya 'have ta promise me something Bill. Don't kill 'im. Promise me that." The younger man chuckled lightly and raised his right hand, "Ya 'ave my word." Releasing his hands from the bloodied coat, Fagin stepped back. He looked down in shame. Was one life really worth the lives of others? Would giving up Dodger be okay if the rest of his boys could live peacefully?

He slowly hobbled over to the boy's bedside. Placing a wrinkled old hand on the Dodge's shoulder he shook him gently saying, "Dodger, Dodger wake up." The brunette groaned and grumbled. Fagin cringed and went back to the open floor space, sitting at one of the tables.

Bleary eyed and drowsy Dodger got up from his humble bed and stumbled over to Fagin. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, "Whot is it Fagin…?" The old man looked over Dodger's head at Bill, who was standing behind the boy in the shadows of the night. He lifted his cane over his head. Fagin looked away and closed his eyes. The cane was brought down heavily on the boy's skull, not hard enough to seriously injure him, but enough to knock him out. The Dodger's eyes rolled back and he collapsed onto the floor. Opening his eyes warily, Fagin looked down at his little prodigy. Oh how the mighty had fallen.

Bill crouched down and scooped the boy up from the floor. "This is it Fagin. Consider me gone, dead, whatever ya please," he said while turning around and slinging the boy over his shoulder. He began to walk for the door. Fagin sat quietly, but out of the corner of his eye saw something.

"Wait Bill! Take 'is hat. Its 'is favorite thing. I gave it to 'im many years ago…" he mumbled sadly. He extended his arm with the brim of the hat grasped tightly by his fingertips. Bill rolled his eyes and snatched the hat from Fagin's fingers. Sentimental bastard.

Fagin watched him walk out the door with what was truly the old man's greatest treasure. "I'm sorry Dodge…" he whispered as Bill exited. The door slammed shut, stirring a few boys from their sleep. Fagin dropped down to his knees as tears built up in the corners of his eyes. "I'm so, so sorry," he cried.


	2. Chapter 2

This story is based around the through that what is Bullseye had run off instead of alerting the townspeople about Nancy's murder. It is based mainly off the 1968 film. I do not own Oliver or anything related to it. This is for enjoyment purposes only.

_**Oliver Twist**_ belongs to Charles Dickens

_**Oliver!**_ belongs to Lionel Bart

Tattered

Eyes fluttering open to the brightness of the sun, Dodger woke up. His vision was blurry and an ache went through his whole body. "Oi… my 'ead," he mumbled reaching his small hand around to rub the back of his head. There was a sizable welt beneath his shaggy hair. "Mmm, Charley, what 'appened last night? I don't rememba nothing." He blinked a few times and was a bit confused as to why he didn't hear a reply. Charley always woke up earlier than he did. "Charley?" he called out. He brought his hands forward and rubbed his eyes, trying to get his vision straight. Once the room became clear… he realized that he had no idea where he was.

His hands snapped up to the top of his head. He patted his hair, not feeling his precious hat. Either he had gotten drunk off his rocker last night… or something was very wrong. He pushed himself up from the seated position he was in. Odd, he could have sworn that he had gone to sleep in his own bed. Shoving his hands into his vest pockets he started about the room. It was small, looked very unkept as well. No use wasting time, right? The Dodge got to work. He had to take advantage of the situation.

He rummaged through various cupboards and drawers finding only a few old trinkets. It was as if no one had been in the place for years. Scowling, the boy put whatever he could find into his pockets and the various compartments of his coat. He found a couple old chains that had broken off jewelry or pocket watches. They wouldn't be worth much, but Fagin could probably find something to do with them. Now, if he could just find perhaps, a wallet, maybe a handkerchief, or even some silverware. Those were the 'big ticket' items. He continued picking around the room searching for anything sellable. As he started to head for the door finding nothing else really useful, said door swung open. It crashed into the wall adjacent to it. Dodger jumped surprise. The bright morning sun poured in through the open door. He boy squinted and lifted his hand as a visor over his eyes to see the face of the silhouette in the doorway. His eyes widened. His mouth moved as if to speak words, but no sound came out. He swallowed hard and finally squeaked out, "…Bill Sykes."

The man silently entered and closed the door behind him. He hung cane up on the hook beside the door. Taking off his hat, he did the same with it. He didn't acknowledge the boy, but instead made his way to the small table in the middle of the room. He pulled a small sack out of his jacket and turned it upside-down, dumping a clamor of coins upon the wooden surface. Dodger glanced at the coins and then to Bill's face. He felt a bit uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if he should speak up or keep his trap shut. He knew how unpredictable Bill was. He bit his bottom lip lightly before asking, "So…uhm… what's Nancy up ta?" Bill paused. He pushed himself away from the table and went to Dodger. He towered over the boy.

"We don't need ta be worryin about Nancy. She ain't a part'uh this," he stated hollowly. He reached down in a flash and grabbed the lapels of Dodger's jacket and lifted him off the ground. "We won't be mentioning 'er eva again. Is that clear…?" he hissed. The boy squirmed around a bit. He lifted his hands and placed them over Bill's. Seeing the boy's struggle the man chuckled and threw him down to the ground. "Fagin wanted me ta give this ta ya," he opened up his coat and pulled out the boy's top hat. The hat had been flattened. Bill pushed his hand up into it and it popped back up. He tossed it at Dodger and then returned to his coins.

The boy lingered for a moment on the man's words. "Fagin? Why would 'e… Why am I 'ere?" he questioned as he stood up and placed his hat gingerly upon his head, trying to avoid the welt. His tiny fists were clenched. Did this bastard do something to Fagin?

Bill let out a rough dry laugh, "Fagin traded ya ta me to get rid'uh his debt. You'll be theivin for me from now on." Dodger shook his head, "No! Fagin would neva do that!" Bill laughed once again at the boy's naivety. "But 'e did Jacky. That's yer name right, Jack?" he said with a rather fiendish smile. The boy scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "No. They call me Dodger, the Artful Dodger," he glared.

"Well Jacky, I won't be usin silly little nicknames, so ya best get used to it."


	3. Chapter 3

This story is based around the through that what is Bullseye had run off instead of alerting the townspeople about Nancy's murder. It is based mainly off the 1968 film. I do not own Oliver or anything related to it. This is for enjoyment purposes only.

_**Oliver Twist**_ belongs to Charles Dickens

_**Oliver!**_ belongs to Lionel Bart

Author's Note: For ages, I am going by the generally accepted ages of all the characters. Dodger is 15, Oliver is 13, Nancy was 23, Bill is 27, Fagin is 62, Bet is 18, etc,etc. Now, these are not the ages of the characters in the novel or the actual stage productions. For example, in the stage play, Dodger is meant to 18, but it is generally thought that he is a young teenager. Bet, as well, in the stage play is meant to be 13, but does anyone ever really think of her that young? Probably not. /note.

Tattered

"Dodge?" the one known as Charley Bates called out, "Dodger! Where ya hidin'?" The boy frowned, unable to locate his friend. He wasn't in his bed, and his hat was gone. So where was he? Could he have perhaps gone out on the job early? Naw, that wasn't like the Dodger, if anything, he'd be the last one to get up early. Sticking his cap on his head, Charley made his way into the den's clearing. The other boys were lounging about, still a bit sleepy. A few did look curious as to where Dodger was. Charley scowled, "Oi Fagin! Where's Dodge?"

The old man sat hunched over in his pit, rocking back and forth slowly. "Dodger… Doger he's been…" he mumbled. He couldn't tell the boys that he'd sold off Dodger to pay for his debt. Surely they wouldn't be too happy about that. He had to make something up, something they'd believe. They may not have been educated in books, but those boys could read people like said books. They weren't easily deceived. Fagin's eyes were bloodshot from a night lacking sleep and filled with silent sobs.

A few of the boys began to chatter amongst themselves. "Yeah, I 'eard the door slam last night and Fagin was upset or something… But then I fell back asleep," one mentioned. Another nodded and added, "Hey, yeah! The door woke me up too! Maybe Dodger ran away!" A laugh was shared between the boys. Charley looked to them warily. Could he have really? Did Dodger run away? "Fagin, where's Dodger?" he repeated. With a sigh, the old man emerged from his hole. "Boys…. Gather round will ya?" he motioned them all around his feet. They quickly scrambled from their seats and sat themselves around Fagin. The old man crouched down, his knees and joints protesting with pops and cracks. He grimaced and then bit his lip. "Boys… The Dodger… He's been… been….kidnapped! Bill Sykes, he came in 'ere last night and took 'im right from 'is bed! I assume he was wantin Oliver, but mistakingly nabbed Dodger instead! They're about the same size, it's an easy mistake, and it was quite dark last night," he explained, lying through his teeth to his beloved boys. Gasps were heard from the throng of pickpockets. A few stood up announcing that they would go find Dodger. Fagin sighed and shook his head. "No boys, no. I don't want anything happenin' to anymore'uh ya."

Rubbing his eyes, Oliver awoke to a clamor of voices and yells. He tried to make out the words through his grogginess. Something about… Dodger? And he was… what was it, kidnapped? His mind was still heavy with sleep and it took a moment for the words to sink in. Once they did however, the boy sprang up and rushed over to Fagin and the others. "Dodger's been taken!" he cried. Fagin nodded solemnly. The blonde's eyes were wide with shock, "It's my fault! If I would have just…" Bates placed a hand on Oliver's small shoulder. "Don't blame yerself. Its Bill Sykes we're talkin' bout. There's nothing ya coulda done ta prevent it." The rest of the boy's gathered around Oliver and spoke of their concerns. Fagin eventually split them up to eat their breakfasts.

After they ate, the boy's continued to mope about. Fagin refused to let them go out thieving. He didn't want them finding anything out. Though, there was force he couldn't control, and she was currently bursting through the door in a fit of tears. "Nancy! Nancy's dead!" Bet cried. The boys all rose, but stayed silent. They were too overwhelmed to say anything. First Dodger gets kidnapped, and now Nancy was dead! It was too much for them to handle. Some of the younger boys started crying themselves. The older ones tried their best to comfort them. Bet ran to Fagin and fell on the floor in front of him, grasping at his raggedy coat. "They found 'er just outside the London Bridge… she, she was," the girl was forced to stop in the middle of her thought to let out a wail of despair, "She was beaten ta death they're sayin'." She sniffled. Fagin reached up to his line and plucked down a wipe, handing it to the girl. Bet wiped the tears from her eyes and shakily stood up. "They sayin' that Bill did it," she stated.

An uproar rang out through the boys. "If Nancy's dead, that means Dodge could be too!" "We've gotta go find Dodger!" "Bill's gonna kill 'im!" they shouted. Bet looked around, confused at the boy's words. "Dodger's gone?" she questioned, looking back to Fagin. The man nodded hesitantly. Her hands quickly went over her mouth as she started to cry again, "Oh God, this can't be 'appenin. It's too terrible. Why all this? Why now?" She stumbled over to one of the benches and fell down upon it weeping. Fagin sat down next to her and wrapped his wrinkly hand over her shoulder, "Bet, do ya think you could… help us?" The girl looked up, "How?" Fagin patted her shoulder gently. "Do you know of any place where Bill and Nancy might have… y'know, used as a safe house when things weren't goin so well?" The girl thought for a moment then answered, "Well… wheneva' Bill was 'idin from the Bow Street Runners… he and Nancy would go to this little… shack is what you may call it."

Charley listened in on Fagin and Bet's conversation. "Where is it then?" he asked. Bet looked to him and then said, "I… I just know its way on the outskirts of London. I've neva been there me'self. Nancy said it was a run down type'uh place. Not very nice." Charley lingered on every word, "Outskirts'uh town , eh?" Fagin glared over at the boy and gave him a good whap on the head. "Don't you even think about it Charley. You aren't goin anywhere." The boy frowned at the old man. He wanted to find his friend. Why didn't Fagin understand that? Meanwhile, why didn't Fagin_ want_ to go look for Dodger? He was a bit curious. Was there something Fagin was hiding? He wouldn't put it past the old geezer to hide some intimate detail. "Fagin, 'ow are we gonna get by without Dodge? Y'know he's the best! He makes the most money out'uh all'uh us! 'Ow are we gonna pay off Bill? If he's not afraid ta kill Nancy, just think of what he'd do to us!" Charley whined. Fagin smacked him across the head again. "Charley shut your trap. I'm thinkin about how we're going to get the Dodger back. Just be patient. I'm sure Bill won't kill him." That was one thing he wanted to be sure of. He hoped to God that Bill was a man of his word. 


	4. Chapter 4

This story is based around the through that what is Bullseye had run off instead of alerting the townspeople about Nancy's murder. It is based mainly off the 1968 film. I do not own Oliver or anything related to it. This is for enjoyment purposes only.

_**Oliver Twist**_ belongs to Charles Dickens

_**Oliver!**_ belongs to Lionel Bart

Tattered

Bill pieced through his coins, counting them one by one. After he counted one he would slip it back into the coin sack. He did this with each coin until he had them all counted. His face showed a bit of disappointment. Dodger sat on the floor across the room. He glanced around trying to avoid eye contact with the murderer. But, by chance their eyes met for a moment and then were locked in a dead stare. "Well boy, I might be puttin' ya ta work sooner than I thought," he stated as he stood up from the table. Dodger cowered down a bit against the wall he was leaning against. "I don't wanna work fer you. I wanna go 'ome," he muttered. He looked up at Bill with his big childish eyes unbefitting of his age. Bill snuffed loudly and gave the Dodge a light kick on the foot, "That won't work on me Jacky. Ol' Bill Sykes don't fall for them puppy dog eyes." He cackled and then mentioned, "Just ask Bullseye." Dodger looked away from the man and to the floor.

"Now boy, stand up and show me what ya got," Bill ordered. The little gent looked up at him in confusion but didn't say anything. Bill grinded his teeth, getting slightly irritated with the child. "Stand up and empty yer pockets," he said sharply. Dodger sniffled lightly and rubbed his nose across his sleeve as he pushed himself up. He reached into his vest pocket and dropped out the chains he had found. Then reaching inside his coat he pulled out a few more small trinkets and emptied them onto the floor. "That's it?" the man asked. Dodge nodded. With a shake of his head Bill tsk'ed the boy. "Looks like Fagin didn't teach ya very well," he said, trying to get a rise out of the boy. The Dodger's little fists clenched tightly. How dare this jerk say such things about Fagin. Fagin was a more respectable gentleman than Bill could ever hope to be. "All good thieves know that ya can't just look in all the obvious places. You didn't look under the floorboards." Bill sauntered over to the other side of the room. He stomped his feet down on various floorboards until he heard a hollow sound resonate from one of them. Crouching down he picked at the board with his grimy fingers and pulled it away. He motioned for Dodger. The boy cautiously walked toward Bill and looked down into the hole where the board once was. "See, all the best stuff is 'idden where ya aren't likely ta look." Dodger stared down. How could he have missed it? Beneath the floorboards were a variety of jeweled pieces, snuffboxes, and silver cutlery.

"Don't worry Jacky, ol' Bill will teach ya all his ways. I need ya boy. You and me… we'll be partners," a devlish smile was on the man's chapped lips. Dodger crossed his arms across his chest and looked away from the man. "Hmph. What if I don't wanna?" Being resistant, stupid kid. Did he not know the power of Bill Sykes? The fear just the mention of his name could bring. Bill scowled and with a quick motion had raised his hand and slapped it across the boy's tender cheek. Dodger stumbled over from the blow and fell into the table in which Bill had been counting coins on. His face stung terribly. He had to force himself not to cry, but tears still welled up in the corners of his eyes. He blinked a few times and touched his cheek gingerly with a trembling hand. "And that was a light one," Bill stated matter-of-factly whilst cracking his knuckles.

Oh God, he had to get out of this place. Bill was going to end up killing him if he didn't get out of there. There was no way he was going to pick pockets for this bastard. What did Nancy ever see in him? Why did she insist on staying with him? He was horrible! A downright God-awful person he was. "I-I want to go home," Dodger whimpered. Bill cocked his head to the side and stared at the boy. The silence from him was uncomfortable. Dodger looked down to the floor and restated, "I want to go home." Silence. The boy clenched his teeth and his fingers curled into fists. "I want to go home," he said again, growing in intensity. But still Bill said absolutely nothing. That was enough, Dodge had had enough of it. "Dammit! 'Ow could ya just take a re-speck-table gent from 'is 'ome and uh-spect 'im ta do work fer ya! Are ya out'uh yer bloody mind! No way I'm gonna pick pockets fer you! No way in 'ell!" the undersized gentleman shouted. A crooked smile then came to Bill's face, "Now, that's the attitude I'm lookin for. That's why Fagin liked ya so much. Yer not afraid ya speak yer mind. I like that in a man." A look of confusion spread over the boy's face at Bill's words. What the hell did he mean by all that! "Yer gonna be a strong man. Yer not afraid to talk back to me, that's more courage than half the men in London. Yer gonna be a great criminal," the man explained.

What was this guy's problem? Had he completely lost his marbles? He was making so sense at all. "Whot ya uh-spect me ta do? Become yer apprentice or something? No way!" the boy protested. He was already Fagin's brightest pupil and was going to take his place over the rest of the boy's once the man got too old. No chance in hell he was going to give that all up to help Bill Sykes. "Well Jacky, you ain't got nothing else ta do with yer life. Fagin gave ya up. Yer mine now. Ya _belong_ ta me," Bill growled. "I don't belong ta nobody! Eck-spesh-ully not _you_!" Dodger retorted. The man's hand raised and the boy flinched and cowered. Bill chuckled and lowered his arm, "Hah. Of course ya don't." Realizing he wasn't going to be hit, Dodger came out of his defensive position. Shit, he was already doing what that jerk wanted him to do. His face was serious as he then asked, "So, what happened to Nancy…?"

Bill's eyes turned murderous. Oh, this boy was going to test his limits. He wrapped his large rough hands around the boy's thin neck. He squeezed lightly. "I thought I told ya that we weren't talkin about 'er?" he snarled. The Dodge adjusted himself slightly. He lifted his hands and tried to pry Bill's off his neck with no avail. "I want ta see Nancy," he wheezed. Bill's hands tightened and the boy coughed. "She's dead," he hissed. Rage flooded through his words. He seethed in anger at just the mention of her name. Dodger's eyes widened. He was not expecting that. He was in such utter shock that he didn't say another word. Bill roughly pushed the boy away and released him. Turning around he was breathing heavily and angrily. He slammed his fist onto the table before upturning the thing. Dodger coughed loudly and rubbed at his throat. His breaths were shallow and forced. He fell to his knees and looked up at Bill. "'Ow… 'ow could ya do that ta 'er? She loved you! She was the only one that eva' did!" the boy's rage slowly built up inside him, "Why Bill! Why! Now ya 'ave _no one_." With an animalistic howl he charged and Bill and beat on him with his tiny fists. Bill glowered at him, picking him up by the back the collar of his jacket. Dodger's legs kicked wildly as Bill raised him from the ground. "I 'ate you! I 'ate you!" he screamed. The man shook the boy violently before throwing him into the wall. 

Dodger's smashed against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. Bill then proceeded to kick the boy harshly in the stomach. "You will respect me boy. YOU HEAR!" he shouted as he kicked him again. The boy cried out in agony, pain, and pure hate. With one final brutal kick Bill stepped back from the boy and spit down at him. He turned around went to pick up the table he had knocked over. The Dodger wailed and hacked as blood spewed from his mouth. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen in a feeble attempt to stop the pain coursing through his body. He choked and gagged on his own blood. "Why don-cha jus' finish me off…" he slurred and gargled through the blood. With the pain he was in, he really wished that the man would have just killed him. "I promised Fagin I wouldn't," he replied, "I am a man of me word." He turned around and stared down at the boy. "Disgusting. Pick yerself up and clean up that mess you've made," he ordered. Shakily the boy pushed himself up, vomiting out blood at he did so. He was dizzy. He could hear Bill's heavy boots coming towards him, but the sound was distant. He blinked twice before falling down into the puddle of his own blood. The man sighed and crouched down next to the boy. "Shit," he grumbled.


	5. Chapter 5

This story is based around the through that what is Bullseye had run off instead of alerting the townspeople about Nancy's murder. It is based mainly off the 1968 film. I do not own Oliver or anything related to it. This is for enjoyment purposes only.

_**Oliver Twist**_ belongs to Charles Dickens

_**Oliver!**_ belongs to Lionel Bart

Author's Note: So, some info on Bill. I was reading through my script and a came upon a small tidbit that said Bill looked to be a man of around 35, but… well, that just seems a bit too old for my liking. Besides, I base Bill in this story off of Oliver Reed's interpretation (because he makes a totally sexy Bill). I see him being a tad younger. Plus I don't want the whole relationship with Nancy, over a 10 year age gap just doesn't seem right to me. So, I see Bill as being a very manipulative person. Very persuasive. Why would Nancy stay with him for so long when she _knew _that he was a terrible man. Manipulation. Perhaps he made her feel special. He could manipulate her emotions in such a way that made him seem not as bad. This will play out with his relationship with Dodger as well. I won't give away anything, but Dodger is going to become more Nancy-esque as the story moves on. Oh, and if you're wondering why I have a script for Oliver, it's because my school is putting it on as our spring musical, aaaand I am playing Dodge. Very excited!

Tattered

"C'mon now boy, I didn't 'it ya that 'ard," Bill mumbled as he shook Dodger's shoulder lightly. He sighed heavily when the boy didn't respond. Dammit, this kid was a burden already. This was the reason why he never got Nancy pregnant, kids were annoying. He carefully picked the boy up into his arms, careful not to rupture any of his internal organs that were probably already bleeding. He couldn't let the boy die, he needed him. The man walked to the other side of the room and laid Dodger down on a pile of blankets that Bill used for sleeping. "Damn kid betta not bleed all over the place…" he grumbled. Well, he was still alive, that was good. His small chest raised up and down with each raspy breath he took. "Oi, stay alive until I get back ya 'ear?" Bill commented as he stepped towards the door. He plucked his hat off the hook and placed it on head. He pulled down his cane as well. Carefully he opened the door and peeked out. He glanced around in all directions before stepping out.

He was headed off to find a certain physician. He often took Nancy to him after she misbehaved. He cringed at the thought of her. Why did she have to go and do what she did? Why couldn't she just have obeyed his orders? Why did she not tremble in fear at his anger? She was just like the kid, or, the kid was just like her. They were fearless; they were the only ones to stand up the great Bill Sykes. He normally would find the doc at the Three Cripples, but no, he couldn't risk being seen there. No doubt he'd hang for what he did to Nancy. Looks like he'd have to make a house call…

"What do ya need now Bill? I 'eard about Nancy. I should call The Runners on ya fer what ya did!" he doctor shouted. Bill growled and gnashed his teeth. "A boy. He… disagreed with me," he answered. "Bloody 'ell Bill! A child! Why must ya always turn ta violence! Dammit, I can't just let the boy suffer… I'm doin it fer the kid Bill. Not you. And I expect _quite_ a generous tip," stated the good doctor. Bill looked to the ground and softly replied, "I appreciate it…"

"God Bill, ya really did a number on 'im didn't ya?" the physician observed. The older man made his way over to where Dodger had been laid. The man sat down his little case of supplies on the floor next to the pile and took a knee. He lightly laid his hand upon the boy's chest. He leaned over trying to listen in on the boy's breathing. "Yes…yes… he'll be alright. Seems like you just broke 'im a rib or two," he felt around gingerly underneath the boy's shirt, "Hm, yes, the bones are pressin up against 'is lungs, probably poked a 'ole in one'uh them. He'd be dead already if it were life theatenin. He'll have a bit of a tough time breathin for awhile, might cough up some more blood too, but as long as he rests he'll be fine." Bill sighed inwardly with relief at the good news. Though, that meant he'd have to stay in this hideout for longer than he really wanted to. Good thing not too many knew about the place. Nancy took the secret to her grave. Bet knew about the place, but didn't know where it was. And this doctor… Bill could be quite convincing. "Good, he's fine. Now get out," he ordered. The older man raised an eyebrow then held out his hand in expectation, "My pay, Bill?" Bill slapped the man's hand away, "Yer pay is the fact that I ain't killin ya 'cause ya know my whereabouts." The doctor uncomfortable shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Well, B-Bill, ya know I can't just make house calls with no pay at all. I need to eat too." With a grumble, Bill pulled out his little sack of coins. He pulled one out and examined it carefully before slowly placing it within the man's vest pocket, "That, is yer payoff. Now go." The doctor swallowed hard, gave a small bow and was quickly out the door.

Bill let out a deep breath and dropped down next to Dodger. Tough kid, reminded him of himself as a child. Hell, he even looked a bit like the murderer in his youth. Gently he pushed the boy's scruffy hair out of his face. His face was covered in his own dry blood. Bill sat for a moment before getting up and pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He looked around for the small basin of water he kept around… now where did he leave it? He spotted it sitting over near the window. Going over and getting the water, Bill dipped the cloth in it and sat back down next to Dodger. He placed the cold wet fabric against the boy's face and started to wash off the sticky substance. After the boy's face was fairly clean, the dropped the handkerchief into the basin and sat it back near the window. Though, now the water was tinted a pinkish color. He stared over at the tiny sleeping gentleman. Small for his age, he noticed. Grumbling, the man shook his head. He needed to stop thinking such things; he was going to end up getting soft. He did not want to be known as 'Bill the Softy'. He knew the kid wouldn't let him live it down either. He could hear it now… that nasally little voice, "Oi, 'as the Ol' Bill Sykes gone soft?" Just the thought of it made him want to punch the boy in the face. But, according to the doctor he had to lay off the beating for awhile at least.

Author's Note part deux: Shortish chapter, basically just wanted to let everyone know that Dodger is fine. And no, I am not studied in the medical arts, so I have no idea if a person would live with a poked lung or not. Let's just pretend. It'll be our little secret.


	6. Chapter 6

This story is based around the through that what is Bullseye had run off instead of alerting the townspeople about Nancy's murder. It is based mainly off the 1968 film. I do not own Oliver or anything related to it. This is for enjoyment purposes only.

_**Oliver Twist**_ belongs to Charles Dickens

_**Oliver!**_ belongs to Lionel Bart

Author's Note: So, my theater director gave out some great insight on Dodge and Bill the other day. I already had a similar idea, but wasn't sure. Fagin raised Bill when he was young. In his youth, Bill was Fagin's 'Dodger'. And Dodger, is Fagin's new 'Bill'. So, if you think of it that way, perhaps Dodge will grow up to get more and more like Bill. Director also said something along the lines of Dodger being Fagin's 'pet'. I thought this was a really interesting idea. I'm done rambling now.

Tattered

It had been days since he'd last seen his friend. Charley sat on his cot with his feet dangling over the edge, kicking slightly back and forth. His head was propped up by his hands as he moped. He really did miss the Dodge. Fagin had just let them go back out to do work again the previous day. Charley supposed the man was still nervous about something happening to the rest of the boys. The kid didn't blame him, but, he was still curious as to why the man didn't seem all too interested in finding Dodger. He knew Fagin wasn't the most trustworthy of gentlemen, but could he have really done something to the Artful Dodger?

"Charley! Get up and get ta work! Quit yer slackin!" Fagin shouted from his den. The boy sighed. His associates had left a few minutes prior. The boy hopped off his bed and slapped his hat onto his head over his messy dirty blonde hair. As he made his way to the door, he stared at the little cot where Oliver had once slept. Bet had since taken him back to the rich old gentlemen whom himself and Dodger had picked from. Dumb kid. It was his fault, he knew it. He had told Oliver not to blame himself, but God, Charley sure blamed him. The more days that had passed, the more time the boy had to think. If Oliver had just….if he… had he just… Charley grumbled lightly as he went to the door. He flung the door open, stomped out, and slammed it shut. He shoved his hands deeply into his trouser pockets and made his way across the little bridge and down the long set of stairs into town. He really wasn't in the mood at all to work. His heart just wasn't into it.

He wandered around the streets on London, not even attempting to pick any pockets. It just wasn't the same without the Dodge. It wasn't any fun. With a sigh he plopped himself down on the curb and sat there. His mind was flooded with thoughts of Dodger's whereabouts. But, his train of thought was disturbed from a light whimpering sound coming out from one of the alleys. Curious, the boy stood up and followed his ears to the noise. What on Earth was it? He looked around the alleyway, not really seeing anything. There were a couple of drunks hunched over mumbling things to themselves. Otherwise, nothing. But that whimpering noise continued. He continued down the alley until he emerged on the other side, and there it was. The source of the noise. A familiar face. "Bullseye?" the boy questioned, crouching down to the dog's level. The mutt's face perked up and he let out a whine. Charley patted the dog on the head, in which the animal replied to by jumping up on the boy and licking his face. Bates let out laugh and pushed the dog away, rubbing him behind the ears. A thought then came to his head. Why wasn't the dog with Bill? He was always with his master! "Bullseye, where's Bill, boy?" he asked. The dog whined loudly and shook. "Can ya take me ta 'im, boy?" The dog let out a bark and wagged his tail. He got up and padded down the sidewalk. Charley quickly followed behind.

At first, the dog seemed to be leading Charley to his master's old home where he and Nancy had lived. But about a block away from the place, the dog stopped, seeming to remember that Sykes wasn't there. Of course Bullseye had run back there looking for his master. He knew of only two places where his master would be. The dog turned quickly and rushed down a side street. The boy ran after him. His lungs were burning from all the running and his heart was racing. Geez, how far away was this mutt going to lead him anyways. For a minute he almost thought the dog was leading him on some wild goose chase, that was until the houses started looking shoddier and shoddier. The dog scampered through the dirty grimy streets. There was some sort of disgusting looking liquid puddling up in a few places. Charley didn't even want to think about what it could be. The dog sniffed around and then started barking as he raced forward. Charley wheezed and huffed as he continued after the Bullseye. The dog skidded to a stop in front of a small lodging. It had a row of steps leading up to it. The dog barked and whined, his tail wagged as he shook. Charley swallowed hard and made his way up the steps. A trembling hand reached for the door. He touched it softly before drawing it back nervously. The dog barked once again, as if encouraging the boy. Taking a deep breath, Charley pulled the latch on the pushed it open. It creaked loudly and swung inwards.

The room was dank and dim. Charley looked around, not seeing anything of importance. That is, until a heard a groan and noticed a bit of movement from underneath a large blanket. He stepped inside the room cautiously. "Mm, Bill?" a small raspy voice called out. Charley's face brightened immediately. "Dodger!" he cried ecstatically. He stumbled over to the pile of blankets where he saw his friend's face poking out from underneath one of them. "Dodge! Bless me eyes! Dodger! Yer okay!" he wailed as he fell atop the Dodger and gave him a strong embrace. "Ah ah ah! Charley, st-stop! Yer 'urtin me!" the boy moaned. Charley immediately pulled back with a worried expression on his face. The brunette pushed his blanket down a bit and carefully sat up. He squeaked in a bit of pain as he did so. He clutched his chest and coughed. "Charley… why'ya 'ere? I'd get out right quick if I was you." Dodger stated. He didn't want Bill to come back and find Charley there, there was no telling what he'd do. "I'm 'ere ta rescue ya! I'm gonna take ya back!" the boy smiled. Dodge frowned, "No Charley, ya need ta go." Bates retorted, "Whot's wrong wi'cha Dodger?" With a deep sigh, the brunette looked away. Oh how he wanted to go back. He really did. But, Bill had completely explained the situation. Fagin traded him away; that was that. Why would he go back to someplace where he was so expendable? Besides, he was barely even able to stand at the time. There was no way he'd be able to escape quickly. He was still having trouble breathing and his chest was hurting because of his broken bones. "Are ya 'urt Dodge? Did Bill 'urt ya?" the blonde questioned with concern. Dodger let out shudder and carefully lifted up his shirt, revealing a set of green and purple bruises covering his abdomen. "Bloody 'ell Dodge! Ya gotta get outta 'ere!" Charley urged. Dodger's face turned pale.

"Oi, what'chu doin in my 'ouse!" a voice boomed. Charley jumped and turned around the face the door, Sykes. The man raised his cane over his head and charged at the blonde. Bates screamed and scrambled away. Bill swung his cane around violently as he chased the boy around the room. Charley small and lithe enough to evade Sykes' clutches. He slipped quickly around the man and out the door. "I'm comin back fer ya Dodger!" he called back as he ran off, Bullseye waddling off behind him. Bill rushed to the door before a shout from Dodger stopped him, "Leave'im alone Bill! Let 'im go!" The man grumbled and turned around the face the boy. "One'uh Fagin's is 'e? One'uh yer mates?" he growled. The Dodge flinched as a sharp pain surged through his body. He let out a quiet cry. Bill sighed and made his way over to the boy. "C'mon now, lie down. Yer pushin yerself too 'ard. Now shut up and go back ta sleep," he ordered. The boy pouted and slowly laid himself back down. Sykes crouched at his side and pulled the blanket up over the boy. Patting his head ruffling up the boy's hair, Bill stood back up. "Fagin won't come lookin fer ya. Know that."


	7. Chapter 7

This story is based around the through that what is Bullseye had run off instead of alerting the townspeople about Nancy's murder. It is based mainly off the 1968 film. I do not own Oliver or anything related to it. This is for enjoyment purposes only.

_**Oliver Twist**_ belongs to Charles Dickens

_**Oliver!**_ belongs to Lionel Bart

Tattered

"Fagin! Fagin!" Charley called out as he burst in through the door to the Thieves' Kitchen. The old man looked up from his cooking and faced the boy. "Charley, why are ya back 'ere! Yer supposed ta be workin!" he scolded. The boy rushed over to the man, out of breath, "Fagin, Fagin I found Dodge!" The blonde's face was covered in happy tears, but worry was in his eyes. Fagin stood up quickly and poked his fork at Charley. "What!" he shouted, "No no no! Ya weren't supposed ta go lookin fer 'im!" The boy looked up to the geezer with a confused look. What the hell was wrong with him? Fagin, realizing his mistake tried to cover by then adding, "Charley, ya could 'ave gotten 'urt! Never go after Bill Sykes by yerself! Why didn't ya ask me ta go wit'cha!" He prodded the toasting fork into the boy's chest. Dammit dammit dammit. Did Bill see him? Was Bill going to come back for retribution? Did Dodger want to come back? Was he upset? Was he… alive?

"Charley, 'ow is Dodger? Is 'e… alright?" the old man asked genuinely. Charley bit his lip and looked away, "Bruises, 'e 'ad bruises all over 'is belly. Didn't seem right at all. Wasn't 'imself…" Fagin sighed heavily and patted the blonde on the head. "Charley my dear, I'm going ta tell ya a secret. Ya 'ave ta promise that ya won't tell _nobody_." The boy nodded. Fagin took the boy by the shoulder and sat him down on one of the benches. "Charley… I gave Dodger ta Bill," he explained. The boy's face was filled with shock, he opened his mouth to reply but Fagin shushed him. "I 'ad ta. We wouldda starved otherwise! Bill got rid of all my debt in exchange fer Dodge. Ya 'ave ta understand my dear. I did it fer you boys!" Bates stood up silently. He turned to Fagin and slapped the man across the face with his small hand. How could he do such a thing! He trusted him! Dodger trusted him! How could he just go and barter him away? They'd been getting along just fine! Sure they may go hungry for a few days, but it wasn't something they weren't used to. The man sat silent and shocked. Angry tears built up in Charley's eye, "'Ow could you _do that_ Fagin! 'Ow could ya do that ta Dodge! Ta Dodger! Why didn't ya just give 'im Oliver? We don't need 'im!" Fagin slammed his fist down on the bench and turned to Charley shouting, "Because 'e wanted Dodger!" He grabbed the boy's shoulder and shook him a few times before pushing him away. "Bill will take care'uh 'im. Teach 'im ta be an even better thief 'e will!" the old man said, trying to redeem himself. The thoughts in Charley's mind were conflicted. He wanted to go back and rescue his mate, but then again, what if Bill was there? Heck, even just finding Dodger would probably get the poor gent a beating. The boy walked over to his cot and sat down. His eyes were fixed at the floor. Fagin, knowing how upset the boy was, went and sat down next to him. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Charley… 'e would 'ave just taken 'im by force if I didn't give 'im away. Saved Dodge a struggle."

Charley just couldn't handle it anymore. He just needed to get out and get his mind off the whole situation. He was just so angry and upset with Fagin, but still so happy that Dodger was alright. His mind didn't want to work right. "I'm goin out Fagin," he said sharply. The man nodded without a word. He understood what Charley was going through. The boy stood up and stormed off out the door. Outside waiting was Bullseye. Seemed he had taken a liking to following Charley around. Patting the dog on the head lightly the boy went back off into the streets of London to meet up with his other companions. He had to tell them what happened… but he couldn't. God, it was going to be hard for him to keep his mouth shut...

"So Jacky, did 'e come ta rescue ya like some 'ero?" Bill chuckled while he took a large swig of gin. Dodger did not reply. Bill looked over his shoulder to the boy laying on the ground behind him and laughed again, obviously a bit drunk. Really, Dodger just wanted to sleep, but a few minutes after Charley had ran out, Sykes had pulled out the drinks. Damn bastard didn't even ask Dodger if _he _wanted any. He couldn't fall asleep because of the man's drunken bumbling. "Oi Jacky, whot, whot-chu think'uh Nancy eh? Did'ja like 'er? Whot did she say 'bout me?" he slurred. The boy still stayed quiet. He didn't want to say or do anything that might send Bill into a drunken rage. Out of all the rages, drunken was the worst. The man fumbled out of his chair and went over to Dodger.

He plopped himself down beside the boy and handed him the half filled mug of gin from his hand. The boy looked suspiciously at Bill for a moment before his thirst got the best of him. He quickly grabbed the mug and poured the liquid down his throat in a few gulps. Sykes smiled and cracked up with laughter. He rubbed the boy's head and exclaimed, "Yer gonna be a dirty little drunk if ya keep that up ya will! Hah!" Dodger wiped his mouth and handed the mug back to the man. Sykes took the mug and reached up at the table for the bottle. Finding it, he brought it down and refilled the empty container. Taking a quick swig, he gave the mug back to Dodger, "Go on then Jacky, drink as much as ya like." Ok, this was weird. The man must have been drunk off his ass. Dodger took a small sip then looked to Bill. He found the man staring at his face with glazed over eyes and a grin. The boy scooted away. Sykes raised up his hand, at the gesture the boy cowered.

Instead of beating the boy, the man instead touched his soft cheek. Dodger looked to the man with confusion. "Y'know… ya remind me a lot of Nance…" Bill mumbled softly, "Yer both strong… independent… yeah, and stubborn too." He chuckled. Dodger's eyes glanced around. Well, this was quite an awkward situation now wasn't it? "Bill, yer drunk," he stated, pushing the man away with an elbow. Bill resisted, "Naw, I feel fine! Yer just like Nancy! Always tellin me when I need ta… ta stop drinkin." He leaned in close to the boy's face. The stench of alcohol flooded Dodge's nose. He cringed and pushed himself further away. This only resulted in Bill getting closer as well. "Why, why ya runnin away? Don't run away from me… I, I love ya…Nance," he muttered as his eyes began to droop. He mouthed a few more indecipherable words before falling down on Dodger's lap unconscious. The boy was a bit surprised to say the least. He looked around in a panic. What was he supposed to do! He sat the mug of gin on the floor and did his best to push the large man off of his legs. Why was it that the drunker someone was, the heavier and more difficult they were to move? Dodger struggled to get the man off of him, but the pain running through his chest caused him to stop. Dammit, he was going to have to sleep with this big smelly lug on top of him wasn't he? This required more gin. Dodger picked up the mug and chugged down the rest of its contents. He reached for the bottle and went to pour it into the mug. He then shrugged and tossed the mug aside, finding it much easier just to drink from the bottle. He took swigs from the bottle until he felt sleepy, then he took a few more. He went to drink from it again, but found he had emptied it. Grumbling he sat the bottle aside and laid down. His eyes were soon closed and his mind drifted off into the land of sleep.


End file.
